“I’m connecting to Kalispell as well. I’d be happy to show you what gate the connecting flight departs from.”
The last thing she needed was help from a cowboy, but then again standing, let alone walking, was proving a real challenge.
“Easy now.” His voice was soft in her ear, his hand protectively holding her elbow. “Take it slow.”
The older paramedic gave her a fatherly look that nearly undid her. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital, Miss? An ambulance is in transit.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Madison turned away, reached for her backpack and nearly fell over from the pain when she bent down.
“I’ve got it.” The cowboy shouldered her backpack, a purple and pink canvas thing which did nothing for his expensive suit.
Another spike of pain tore through her vision.
Something was very wrong. Why did she feel this way? She had to reach Kalispell. Check into her hotel room. If she could hold together until she reached the dark room and sink into a night’s sleep, she would be fine.
“I have a carry-on too,” she murmured.
“Got it.”
Before she could say anything else he had reached into the overhead bin and pulled down her bag as if it weighed nothing.
“At least let us show you to the lounge.” The medic still blocked the aisle, hesitant to let her pass.
“I can take her there.” Again the cowboy’s voice, soft and low.
“Airline policies strictly state when a passenger becomes sick upon flying a report must be filed and—”
Aiden cut off the lead attendant who’d joined them. “I’m sure Ms. Hart would be happy to sign any release forms in the lounge. The important thing now is to help her off this plane.”
If she could make it to the terminal, she could lose the cowboy. First she had to get rid of these medics. Just like an airline to be worried she was going to sue them, as if they had somehow caused whatever was wrong with her.
“Thank you.” Madison tried to smile at the cowboy, but it only made the pain intensify. She shut her eyes briefly, then opened them and offered what she hoped was a brave, healthy smile.
“I’m much better.” She turned to the medic, looked him directly in the eye. “I’m sorry to have caused so much trouble.”
“Not at all.” He shrugged and stepped ahead of her in the aisle, led the way as they started off the plane.
The flight attendant handed the cowboy a leather case. “Here’s your bag, Mr. Lewis. We’ll have a porter take both of your carry-on bags to the connecting flight.”
“You’ll go to the lounge?” The cowboy’s voice was a whisper, a soft undertone to the chaos surrounding her.
Madison had a distinct feeling if she refused now, she would end up back at the mercy of the medics. “Yes. Thank you.”
As the medics led her out, Mr. Lewis kept his hand on her elbow. They made their way out of the plane, down the jetway, and into the terminal, where the lights were even brighter. Madison tried to ignore the pressure behind her eyes, tried to keep walking. The cowboy must have said something else, because the medics finally moved on, the flight attendants nodded and left.
“Let’s find you some sunglasses.” His voice was for her ears only as he guided her toward a shop across from the gate.
Had she said she needed them? Or had he simply read her mind? She couldn’t remember. Sunglasses and a bottle of water, then she would send him on his way.
SERGIO SLID INTO THE front seat of the Nissan Acura. He waited until they exited the airport before he removed the woman’s headdress. Made of an inexpensive cotton and simply embroidered, it did nothing to attract attention. Next he removed the long brown wig, not that a single hair of it had shown, but one could never be too careful. He knew their cameras to be quite advanced. His men employed in airport security had assured him they captured anomalies in shape, texture, and color—even beneath garments, in a crowd, at a distance.
The guise had been a precaution. He’d been assured by various federal agencies that he wouldn’t be followed, and he believed them. They would do much to save their precious First Lady. Still, one could never be too careful.
Sergio placed both carefully on the seat beside him.
“I trust your flight was comfortable?” The driver hazarded a glance, apparently uncertain whether to look at him directly.
“Yes, Mohammed. Thank you for asking.” Sergio planted his feet so he could pull up the full-length abaya and remove it. When he had done so, he folded it neatly and placed it on top of the other items.
“The clothes pleased you?”
“They did. I passed through their surveillance devices undetected. There is no need for you to watch your mirror. I made sure we are not being followed.”
Sergio’s thoughts returned to the woman on the plane. It was a pity he had to drug Ms. Hart, but he could not risk her remembering his face. Of course he could have killed her, his mission was more important than the life of one infidel, but it would have given the government agents one more reason to reconsider their deal. As if they had any bargaining chips.
The voice from the back of the car broke through Sergio’s thoughts.
“We have sent the encoded message stating their precious Claudia is safe.”
Sergio did not bother to turn around. He would have known Abu Yassin’s voice anywhere. He did not have to see the man he had pledged his life to in order to recognize him. As a sheep knows his shepherd—
“You used their code name?” Sergio asked.
“Yes. We want them to know the extent to which we have penetrated their security network.”
“They will tremble before the force of our attack is realized.”
“Yes, they will. Which was one point of tonight’s exercise. They will spend even more of their resources increasing security around their President and First Lady.”
“Yet our attack has nothing to do with them.”
“Exactly. They will also increase airport security more, further slowing the wheels of their precious commerce and frightening passengers.”
“Ms. Hart was quite frightened tonight,” Sergio said evenly.
“As they will all be in fifty-eight days. It is what the Americans deserve.”
The statement hung in the car as they sped across the desert, the lights of the city fading behind them.
“Tell me about the woman on the plane.”
Sergio resisted the urge to wipe the sweat beading on his brow. He knew he had made no errors, and yet he did fear Yassin’s anger.
“Her name was—”
“I know her name.”
“Of course. She was wearing one of their newest model listening devices.”
“Who planted it?”
“I do not know. I do know it was not on her shirt before she boarded the plane.”
“You looked at her closely in the lobby then.”
Sergio shifted slightly in his seat, resisting the urge to defend himself.
“Yes.”
“It is an unfortunate but necessary part of your mission that you must look at their women. Your sins are forgiven. Who could have planted it on her?”
“Someone in the airport perhaps. I don’t think it was anyone on the plane and certainly not the air marshal. I watched him the entire time. There was no other agent onboard. We had three associates searching—first-class, mid plane, and in the back galley. No one reported any finds.”
“It is important we learn who has been identifying our agents as they cross the Canadian border. Tonight’s little drama was meant to frighten the Americans, but it was also to lure out their Iceman. Your people missed something.”
Sergio resisted the urge to defend his team. “We will go over the manifest again.”
Mohammed spoke for the first time since Yassin had made himself known. “All three members have checked in. They cleared the airport, but are being followed.”
“As we expected they would be. It is of no c
onsequence. We will have lost their agents by morning. The passenger lists must be analyzed again. There is someone we missed.”
Mohammed pulled the car into a deserted business complex. Driving around to the loading area, he stopped beside a small private plane. The large vacant parking area provided an acceptable airstrip. The only lights in the entire complex came from the aircraft which was powered up and waiting for its single passenger.
“I must leave,” Yassin said. “May you both remain strong in your faith, focused on your mission, and firm in your resolve.”
Sergio and Mohammed both exited the car, accepted the traditional greeting, then waited as the man few in their organization had ever seen boarded the plane. When darkness again blanketed the parking area, they returned to the car.
“We have a six-hour trip to our destination,” Sergio said.
“Yes. I thought you would like to rest, so I reserved you a room outside of town.”
“There will be time to rest after our mission is successful.” Sergio’s voice tightened and the flame of anger surged again within him. He was frustrated he had missed the agent on the plane and embarrassed he had again disappointed Yassin.
“Of course. We will drive there now.”
Silence filled the car as they again sped south.
“I would like to see the sun rise from this engineering marvel,” Sergio said.
“It will not be a marvel for long,” Mohammed said.
“Everything is in place?” Sergio knew all the explosives were set. He had monitored the placements via satellite feeds himself.
“Of course. There was no need for you to visit. Excuse me for saying so. Everything is ready. All we need is for you to give the word. You could have left with Yassin.”
“It is important I see it myself,” Sergio said. “Not only to confirm the practical details. Some things must be seen to satisfy the heart.”
The silence weigh between them for a few minutes. Finally Mohammed said, “You may take a tour if it pleases you.”
“Only of the outside.”
“No. You can tour most of the interior of the structure as well, and for only eleven American dollars. You can even walk through the 250 foot tunnels to the generators.”
“There are no guards?”
“There are some, but so many people pass through on the tours the guards have become complacent. Antonio was able to acquire a job as a tour guide. That is how we gained access to the restricted areas and were able to plant the explosives near the generators in case the underwater ones malfunction.”
“The underwater explosives will not malfunction, Mohammed.”
“Of course not.”
“You must have faith.”
“Yes. I will pray for more faith.”
“Fifty-eight days, Mohammed. The world will change even as it did on September 11. You are blessed to have a small part. We have both been favored in the eyes of Allah.” Sergio looked out into the night, thought of the woman’s softness under his hands, tried to push her from his mind. It was an unholy image, and it angered him that she should cross his mind at such a moment. Perhaps he should have killed her. “I will rest now. Wake me when we reach the Nevada state line.”
IT SEEMED TO TAKE EVERY bit of Madison Hart’s strength to put one foot in front of the other. Aiden wanted to allow her to sink into the chair at the front of the store, but he wasn’t about to let her out of his sight again—not even for a second.
Propelling her to the carousel of sunglasses, he picked up the first pair he saw. They were ridiculous things with fake rhinestones on the sides, but they would do. Turning her toward him, he placed them gently on her face. As he slipped them on her, he stared briefly into the most stunning brown eyes he’d ever seen. The vulnerability and confusion he saw there distracted him, caused him to hesitate, made him want to smooth the pain away with a touch of his hand.
Focus on the mission, Iceman.
The struggle was brief. His training had been the best and within seconds he managed to detach himself from the situation. Accompany her on the plane. Transport her to Edgewood. Find Coyote and kill him. He could be objective.
“You look lovely. Do they help?”
She nodded, but didn’t say a word. Aiden noticed a trembling in her chin and hurried her toward the register before she melted completely into tears. After paying, he guided her back out into the corridor.
“The lounge is a little way down. Can you walk that far?”
“Yes.” She raised her chin a little, trying to look brave and in control. It didn’t work.
“You’re not fooling me, Ms. Hart. I can tell how much pain you’re in. I’d be happy to pick you up and carry you.”
She shook her head slightly, but the tears spilling out beneath the glasses were more than Aiden could stand.
When he picked her up she was lighter than he expected, and he’d expected her to be light. He thought she might resist, but instead she buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed softly.
“Almost there, sweetheart. Hang on.”
His anger resembled a bear’s awakened from its winter nap as he stomped into the first-class lounge. Why would someone drug a lady like Madison Hart? And why use Mexican Valium? Give her a sleeping pill if you have to, something without the terrible side effects.
The receptionist looked up as he banged through the first-class door. One look at Aiden sent her scurrying around the desk.
“We’ve been expecting you, Mr. Lewis. Would you like to use the study?”
“Yes, thank you, Diana. If you could make sure we’re not disturbed.”
“Certainly.”
Diana opened the door to what could have been an exquisitely decorated study in any million-dollar mansion—complete with a mahogany Victorian desk, oriental rugs, and shelves from floor to ceiling lined with a collection any librarian would drool over. A matching Laura Ashley loveseat and chair in Cambridge fabric were tucked into the corner. Growing up in the best suites Europe and the US had to offer, Aiden knew quality from fluff. This was quality. No expense had been spared.
Aiden headed toward the sofa. “Please dim the lights, and bring me two bottles of water. Be sure they’re unopened.”
Aiden wasn’t putting anything past Coyote. If he’d managed to drug her on a plane with an air marshal across the aisle, he could have slipped into the first-class lounge as well.
As Diana shut the door, he lowered Ms. Hart to the couch.
Her arms remained clasped around his neck. Aiden gently pulled away, but not before he’d let his hand trail down her arm. Not before her scent had permeated every bit of the ice he was supposedly so famous for maintaining.
Her hands found his, and she clung to them as if he were a lifeboat. He had to lean close to make out her words, which were shaky, tearful, and filled with a pain he could only imagine.
“Please don’t leave me. I can’t remember why I’m so afraid, but I am.”
“I’m not going anywhere, and you can stop being afraid.”
Aiden lowered himself to the floor as she curled into a fetal position. He reached forward and removed the Stetson from her head, then couldn’t resist tucking her hair behind her ear. It was soft and thick, and it took every ounce of control Aiden possessed not to sink his hands into it, feel the weight of it, bury his face in it.
“You’re going to be all right. Hold on.”
“I don’t understand.”
Her tears continued to fall. He wiped them away with his thumbs, held her face in his hands, and willed her to stop crying.
“I know.”
By the time Diana brought the water, Ms. Hart was fast asleep.
Aiden found a blanket and covered her with it, then removed the sunglasses. He continued to monitor her vital signs, noting them on a pad he’d retrieved from his satchel. Her breathing had evened out as soon as she’d fallen asleep. Her pulse remained slow but steady. Aiden continued checking both every ten minutes.
When he was fin
ally convinced the immediate danger had passed, he went over to the desk, pulled his laptop out of the leather satchel, and booted up.
Typing in the IP address, he waited for the system to request his thumbprint. When it did, he touched the mouse pad in the center and waited for the beep. His report was cryptic.
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He waited for the acknowledgement indicating his message had processed, then promptly did a system shut down. As an afterthought, he switched his phone to silent.
With nothing left to do, he moved the chair closer to the couch and watched Madison. The old ache stirred, and he wondered why he couldn’t meet someone like her under different circumstances. Women like Madison Hart had no place in his world though. Of course there were women in ops. Aiden respected their hardness and their intelligence, but they didn’t stir him the way the woman lying on the couch did.
In another life, if he met a woman like Madison, he would ask her out. They could see a movie or go out for coffee. They could even saddle up a couple of his horses and ride the range together. A normal life. Something he didn’t have now and probably never would, at least not in the foreseeable future. Not as long as men like Coyote roamed free.
Some days he wanted to walk away from it all.
But he wouldn’t. Tomorrow he’d crawl out of bed, holster his weapon, and debrief his mission file. Like he’d done today. Like he’d done yesterday.
Best decide what to do when she woke up. He couldn’t tell her she’d been drugged. Protocol strictly stated he take her in for debriefing only if and when she remembered what had happened, not before.
So he couldn’t tell her the truth. It wouldn’t do any good if he did. She wouldn’t believe him. It would only frighten her more.
She would sleep off most of the effects of the drug. Hopefully she hadn’t been raped. The thought made his mouth go dry and sweat run down his back. He reached for the bottle of water, popped the seal, and drank half of it. Unexplainably his throat remained dry.
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